


Snowed In

by andruillest



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4897015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andruillest/pseuds/andruillest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite his protests, Sam gets snowed in at Dorian's apartment. Drunken shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowed In

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt I received on tumblr. I haven't enjoyed writing something as much as I enjoyed writing this in a very long time. I hope you enjoy it, too!

“You’re joking, right?”

Dorian folded his arms against the chill. The snow was falling quickly in heavy flakes and had already begun to collect in his hair. Thin but fashionable jacket drawn tightly around himself, the young man frowned at Sam with a furrowed brow.

The elf assumed a Very Serious countenance, arms resting comfortably at his side. “I never joke about anything, ever,” he retorted sarcastically.

Pavus rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw both in annoyance and to prevent his teeth from chattering. “You must be mad if you honestly think I’m going to let you drive back. Maker, it’s freezing! Come back inside.”

Sam merely shrugged. “I didn’t ask you to follow me to my car wearing basically nothing but your slippers.”

“Yes, I know, and these were _very nice_ slippers and now they’re all wet, so thank you for that. But really. You could very well die, and then I would blame myself and wallow in despair and self-loathing for the rest of my life. Do you really want that?”

Smirking, Sam placed a hand on the door handle of his car. “You know, you’re very dramatic about things. Did you know that? I bet no one has ever told you that.”

The mage sprung forward, placing himself between Sam and the door of the car, wincing at the cold glass at his back. “I’m not letting you leave,” he reiterated firmly. “And look! Your car door is frozen shut. You can’t even get in.”

“I literally just saw you cast Winter’s Grasp, just now, with my own two eyes.” 

Dorian’s expression softened abruptly, eyes large and pleading. “Be reasonable, Sam. Look at the road! That snow is thick and unplowed and extremely dangerous.” His gaze flicked down to Sam’s hand on the door handle, and then to his ruined slippers. “Please.”

Lavellan turned slightly pink at this shift in mood and their close proximity, glancing down at the young man. _Creators_ , his eyelashes were so _long_. There’s _snow_ on his _eyelashes_. He sighed. “I wouldn’t want to impose–-”

“Oh, shut up,” Dorian scoffed, stepping finally away from the door. He took a moment to gather Sam in; how his cheeks and the tip of his nose had flushed charmingly with the cold. _Maker_. He cleared his throat. “Can we go inside already? My toes are turning purple.”

Sam laughed, pointing at the top of Dorian’s head. “And you’re hair’s gone all white. You look old.”

With a humph, Pavus scrubbed a hand over his hair and turned, shuffling back toward the door. “Come on already,” he grumbled, wrinkling his nose at the sound of Sam’s chuckles behind him.

 

“Ah, now I see,” Sam said, quirking an eyebrow. “This was all a ploy to get me drunk.”

Earning a smirk from Dorian, the elf accepted the glass that had been thrust his way. “Well, no. This was all a ploy to get you not killed.” Pavus took a seat on the couch, bringing his own glass to his lips. “Since we’re spending all this time _not dying_ , however, I figured we might as well do it while drinking.”

“Mhm. So _that’s_ why you kept me here,” Sam replied playfully. 

Dorian dismissed the heat spreading over his face with a short laugh. “Please. I’d make you dinner first.”

Lavellan touched the rim of his glass to his bottom lip and Dorian promptly looked away. “That’s suggesting you can actually cook,” he muttered before sipping his drink. “ _Fenedhis_ , what is this stuff?”

The mage chuckled. “Very expensive wine with a name you probably can’t pronounce.”

Sam swirled the dark liquid around for a moment before speaking. “…Honestly, Dorian, you don’t have to keep me here and cater to me or whatever–-”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up about that?” Pavus replied firmly, ending the matter with a pointed sip from his glass.

Lavellan sighed, then looked up at Dorian sheepishly through his eyelashes. “Thanks.”

The mage cleared his throat. “It’s nothing,” he murmured into his glass.

Sam looked back down at his drink, staring at it pensively for a moment before taking another swig. “As fucking great as this tastes,” he said, breaking the silence, “got anything stronger?”

Pavus tapped a finger against the side of his glass thoughtfully. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

 

“Okay,” said Sam. “Uhh. Okay. Obscure talent.”

“Besides being incredibly handsome?” 

Sam chuckled, gaze scanning over the mage’s face. “While that is rather impressive–” he admitted, “like, I never cease to be impressed about that–I’m afraid it doesn’t count.”

Dorian chewed his lower lip, thinking, but also making a not-so-subtle attempt to draw attention to his mouth. It worked. “Hm. I can play the piano?”

Sam took a moment to answer, lifting his gaze finally to meet Dorian’s. “That’s not obscure.”

“I can play the piano _really well_.”

“Well, now you're just boasting.”

"It's what I do." Dorian took another drink from his glass, grimacing slightly at its bitter strength. “And you?”

“I can catch food in my mouth,” the elf answered readily, squaring his shoulders with pride.

Pavus let out a short laugh. “Really.”

Sam nodded.

“What if I’m dreadful at throwing?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lavellan answered, taking another swig from his drink as well. “It’s a gift.”

With a smirk, Dorian pushed himself off the couch. “We’ll see about that.”

“Wait!” exclaimed Sam, catching Dorian by the wrist. The young man turned back, clearly alarmed by the outburst. Then, Lavellan giggled. Actually _giggled_. “Just take my word for it.”

Pavus quirked an eyebrow. “You can’t catch things in your mouth, can you?”

“Heh. Nope. I just thought it sounded cool and I was hoping you'd make a dick joke.”

“I should have expected no less.”

“I can juggle, though.”

With a scoff, Dorian lowered himself back onto the couch. Closer this time. “ _Festis bei umo canavarum_ ,” he muttered under his breath, laughing.

“What was that?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“No, I’m _drunk_.”

“That much is evident.”

Sam scooted closer to him on the couch so that their sides were touching. “It’s your turn,” he slurred, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to rest on the back of the couch. “Do a serious one this time.”

Dorian drummed his fingers on his knee, shifting slightly into the warmth of Sam’s body. He took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of something he couldn’t quite place that wafted off of Sam’s hair. “Hm…Biggest fear,” he suggested.

Without opening his eyes, Sam grinned. “Ooh, that’s a good one,” he giggled before falling into a thoughtful silence. “Uh. Commitment, I guess,” Sam said after a moment, eyes flickering open to stare at the ceiling. His answer was quiet, almost like he didn’t want Dorian to hear it. The elf shifted his jaw around a little, uncomfortable with the silence, and waited for a response.

Dorian had fallen silent for a moment, mulling this over. Instead of giving his own answer, he merely said, “Well, explain.”

Sam shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I’m just more paranoid than anything. Undeclared major, no idea what I’m meant to be doing.” _Or whom, for that matter._ He glanced over at Pavus, perhaps too pointedly. “I’m just terrified that I’ll pick something and then, later, it ends up being...the wrong thing.”

“Hm.” Dorian ran a finger absently around the rim of his glass. “No one's got any way to tell what's right or wrong. All that matters is what feels right at the time,” he responded delicately. “And I suppose… you could always change your mind.”

“Well, my _mind_ , sure, but what about everything else?” Sam sat up straight finally, shifting so that his body was turned toward Dorian. “Change isn’t that simple. It’s scary.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” offered Dorian gently.

Sam let out a short, humorless laugh and folded his arms, slumping. “Easier said than done, for an elf.”

Pavus was struck silent by this, pursing his lips and settling deeper into the couch. He spoke after a drawn-out pause. “Sam, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, no, I know. I’m sorry. Alcohol makes me cranky sometimes.” Lavellan took a deep breath, downed the last of his drink, and get the glass on the table in front of them with a thud. The swig induced a shift in mood, and he smiled, jerking his chin toward the mage. “Well then, what’re you waiting for? Your go.”

“My biggest fear?” He stroked his chin dramatically, fishing around in his mind for some witty, self-obsessed joke. Truthfully, he was still reeling over Sam's answer, so he came up empty, sighed, and answered slowly, “I suppose… temptation.”

Sam glanced at Dorian sidelong. “Your turn to explain.”

Pavus shrugged a little, seeming very interested in his hands. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s a difficult feeling to place.” He looked up at the ceiling, as though the answer would be written there. “I often can’t afford… distractions,” he went on, choosing his words carefully. “Though, I give into them more often than I’d care to admit.”

Lavellan seemed to be mulling this over. “Do incredibly charming and attractive blond elves fall under ‘distractions’?”

Dorian barked out a nervous laugh, blushing deeply. “That depends on whom you ask.”

The weight on the couch shifted slightly as Sam leaned in–-not incredibly close, but close enough for Dorian to smell the sweet liquor that lingered on his breath. “I’m asking _you_.”

Dorian’s gaze flicked back and forth, scanning Sam’s face. Softly, he answered, “I reckon I wouldn’t give a shit either way.”

A pause, then a smile from Sam that bordered on incredulous. “Shit, I–” Sam cut himself off, retreating back a little, eyes falling closed. “I really wanna kiss you right now.”

Dorian didn’t bother hiding his surprise, mouth falling open slightly. A beat went by. “Well,” Pavus said softly, “what’s stopping you?”

Lavellan chuckled slightly, a low, rumbling sound that made Dorian’s stomach churn. He opened his eyes, gaze flicking around the man’s face before it settled on his lips. “My last shred of sobriety,” he replied.

“Hm.” Dorian turned the corner of his mouth up slightly, conjuring the most absolutely charming smirk he could muster. He tilted his head to the side. “I see.”

 _Fuck_ , Sam thought, followed by a string of Elvish curse words. 

“Perhaps I can change your mind,” Dorian added, leaning close enough to Sam’s ear to make the elf shiver. 

_Holy shit. What the fuck._

Suddenly there were Dorian’s lips, just at the end of his jaw, grazing the skin so lightly that it was maddening. Sam’s breath audibly hitched, and he could feel the mage’s mouth twist into a smirk. _Creators. Fucking. Shit._

The kisses trailing down Sam’s neck made him dizzy. His face grew warm when Dorian slipped a hand across his stomach to splay out over his hip. The tips of his fingers tingling, numb, his hand found the man’s cheek. “Dorian.”

Pavus drew back immediately, face still close but with alam written across it. He was flushed and breathless; a worried crease had etched itself between his eyebrows. _Oh, no_ , he thought, gut sent careening into his toes.

Lavellan felt a tug in his chest. Suddenly, he breathed out a single quiet laugh, brushing his hand up over Dorian’s other cheek to cup his face. _Fuck it_.

The kiss was slow at first, both young men relishing the surprising sense of relief that flooded through it because, _yes_ -–this is exactly what it was supposed to feel like, dissonance and resolve, the _finally_ that made both of their chests swell with gasps of air. Dorian’s lips were _so soft_ and Sam’s skin smelled _so incredible _and _he’s so_ good _at this_. Fingers hiking up shirts, teeth scraped lightly over lower lips, mouths open and teasing and all over the place. A tongue grazed an upper lip, hands felt and fumbled, Sam was on his lap, Dorian was at his neck again.__

__“Dorian,” Samahl breathed again, this time the only response being a vague hum from the man beneath him. The elf let out a short laugh. “Yeah, uh, you definitely changed my mind.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

>  _Fenedhis_ : An Elvish curse word. In this context, the equivalent of "fuck."  
>  _Festis bei umo canavarum_ : Tevene for "You will be the death of me."


End file.
